


i never thought (it'd be you)

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Eliot has a complicated relationship with soulmates and soul marks. Quentin's not much better.Things only get more complicated when they start falling for each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this story soul marks are not the person's partner's name, but a symbol of some kind that matches perfectly with the other person. Just for reference, because I know the common approach is names but that'd make it too easy.
> 
> Consider supporting me by going to my Twitter ( queermight ) and looking at my pinned Tweet.

> **ELIOT**

Soul marks were the bane of Eliot’s existence. From the day he was born, all he heard was soul mark _this_ and soul mark _that_. It was the only thing his classmates talked about. His parents, too, until that fated day his soul mark actually appeared on his skin.

His mother took one look at the mark and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the bathroom. She closed the door and crouched down, cupping his face.

“You can’t tell your father, okay?”

Eliot, just twelve at the time, nodded obediently.

“Good boy,” his mother whispered, smiling. She looked kind of sad, and he couldn’t understand why; they’d been waiting for this day.

Turning him, she grabbed something from off the sink and started rubbing something thick and cool on his shoulder. “This is foundation, baby. You’ll be using it daily from now on, okay?”

Eliot squinted at the floor. “Daily?” he repeated ludicrously.

She sighed softly. “For now, okay?”

He still didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. He wouldn’t understand for a few more joyous months.

&

“You know John’s boy?” his father said at dinner one night. “He got his soul mark the other day.” He grunted. “He just found his soulmate. Chad something.”

Eliot stared at his father and thought about the thick layer of foundation on his shoulder. He glanced at his mother, who smiled tightly.

“Is that so?”

His father reached for him and patted his shoulder. “Better to have no mark, right, sonny boy?” he asked, grinning.

Eliot stared at his father. “Yes, sir.”

At thirteen, Eliot perfected the art of lying.

> **QUENTIN**

Quentin watched as Julia rubbed at the mark on her arm. “You can’t just rub it off, Jules,” he said weakly.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed loudly, finally giving up.

Quentin scooted closer and glanced at the mark on her arm. “Why are you so upset?”

“_Because!_” she said, waving her arms wildly.

Quentin didn’t understand. He frowned, waiting. Predictably, Julia slumped against him and continued, “I thought for sure James would be my soulmate.” But that was definitely not the mark James had gotten a few months earlier.

He wrapped an arm around her body. “I’m sorry.”

Julia looked up at him and sniffed loudly. “You still haven’t gotten yours,” she whispered softly. It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t need one,” he said. “I have you and James.”

&

Quentin was a late bloomer in every sense of the word, and his soul mark was no exception, apparently. He was fifteen when the mark showed up on his thigh.

He went to Julia’s house immediately, wearing shorts. “Look,” he said, pointing. He felt… _weird_. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or disappointed. Maybe both.

Julia gasped and crouched down, looking closer.

Quentin held his breath, waiting.

“I have to be honest,” she said, standing up. “I wasn’t expecting… that.”

Quentin pursed his lips. “It’s girly, I know,” he replied, a bit snappy.

Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m happy for you, Q.”

“I… I know,” he sighed. He just wished he could tell if he was happy, too.

> **ELIOT**

Discovering Brakebills was the best thing to ever happen to Eliot. Kind of. Honestly, meeting Margo was the best thing to ever happen to Eliot.

It was like Eliot and Margo had been crafted to be friends. In all the ways that mattered, Eliot considered Margo his soulmate. Because soulmates could be platonic, thank you very much.

Margo felt the same way.

“Fuck this shit,” she said one day while they were cuddling on the couch. She patted Eliot’s shoulder and sat up. “I found this spell. It’s technically forbidden,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but fuck it, I think we should do it.”

Eliot slowly sat up, leveling her with a curious, but slightly cautious look. “What are you thinking, Bambi?”

“Just look,” she said and reached down, pulling a small folded up piece of paper out of her bra. Eliot made a face, but she just flipped him off and unfolded it. “Here.”

Eliot leaned over and his eyes quickly scanned the page. “Margo, this is - soulmate spells are _forbidden_ forbidden,” he said. “We could get expelled.”

“No one will know,” she said primly.

Eliot looked up into her face, pretty and thin. Underneath her exterior, he knew the truth: she was hurt and lonely and couldn’t believe the tales of soul marks in fear of just being hurt again. “Okay,” he agreed softly.

After a few failed attempts, they were both free of their soul marks. Not literally, of course, but they were hidden by the spell. Essentially, a fancy cloaking spell.

Eliot turned in the mirror, staring at his shoulder. “It’s like foundation, but better.”

Margo smiled lightly. “Fuck soulmates,” she announced loudly, grabbing their two drinks off the table and holding them in the air. “To real friends.”

> **QUENTIN**

Meeting Eliot and discovering Brakebills were two separate, but connected events that changed Quentin’s life for the better. Magic was _real_, and he was a magician. Not a very good one, but hey.

“There’s so much,” Quentin flapped his arms. “_Something_ in the air. Like I can feel it.”

Eliot laughed gently and swung an arm around Quentin’s shoulders. “That would be called magic, little one,” he said, eyes sparkling.

“It’s… amazing,” he said.

Eliot grinned and pulled away. “We’re having a party. A celebration for the newcomers.” His grin shifted, a bit softer. “You should come.”

Quentin chewed on his bottom lip. “Okay,” he agreed after a moment.

“You have a phone, yes?” Eliot asked. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Quentin nodded curtly and listed off his number. Eliot waved, just a little wiggle of his fingers, before sauntering off.

Maybe things were finally looking up.

&

“What are we playing?” Quentin asked later at the party. A large group of students were sitting on the floor, forming a messy circle with their bodies. Quentin stood over Margo, who looked up at his question.

“Truth and dare,” she said, smirking. “Wanna join?”

Quentin pursed his lips, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Isn’t that kind of like… high school-y of you?”

Eliot gasped dramatically and smacked his leg. “How dare you. Sit and we’ll explain the rules.” He made a point of scooting over, giving Quentin a nice spot between Eliot and Margo.

Quentin couldn’t help feeling oddly giddy as he sat down. He was sitting between the two most beautiful, popular students at Brakebills.

“Okay, so what are the rules?”

Margo grinned like a shark and leaned forward, holding up two fingers. “You can’t pick truth twice in a row, and you have to do your dare. No cocking out just because you’re scared.”

Quentin swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

She blinked, leaning back. “Really? Just like that?” she patted Eliot’s leg. “You’re right; maybe he will be interesting.”

Quentin quickly turned his head, staring at Eliot openly. “You’ve been talking about me?”

“I…” Eliot cleared his throat, clapping his hands together. “Okay, here we go.”

The game was, surprisingly, fun. Sure, Quentin’s first truth resulted in Margo making fun of him because he’d never received a blowjob, but what can you do?

But then it was Penny’s turn to ask Quentin. He gulped. "Dare," he said, predictably.

“Show everyone your soul mark.”

Quentin blinked. “Uh.” He hadn’t looked at that thing in months, not beyond pulling on and off his jeans.

Eliot glared at Penny. “That’s not - ”

“It’s my turn,” Penny shot back. “And it’s my dare.” He looked at Quentin. “Do it.”

Quentin blushed, red as a beet. “But it’s,” he gestured weakly at his lap, “it’s on my thigh,” he muttered quietly.

Penny raised both eyebrows. “And?”

“Fuck off, Penny,” Eliot said, jumping to his feet. He extended a hand. “Come on, Quentin.”

Quentin wasn’t about to say no; he grabbed Eliot’s hand and let himself be pulled up. Eliot glared at Penny again before tugging Quentin out of the circle and up the stairs. Quentin could hear Margo yelling something about - _"it's the rules, Eliot!"_ \- but she didn’t follow them.

Eliot walked a few feet before sighing in frustration and turning, slumping against a wall. Quentin wrung his hands. “Thanks?” he said, unsure. He was thankful, at least.

“I’m just - people have no right to information like that and it’s - “ Eliot yanked his fingers through his hair, messing up the curls.

Quentin nodded slowly. “You’re not a fan of soul marks, are you?” he asked knowingly.

“Not really,” Eliot commented dryly.

Quentin ran his tongue his teeth, looking away. “Same.”

“Really?” Eliot asked, standing straighter. "Uh." He scratched the back of his neck, obviously out of his element. "Do you want to, like, talk about it?"

> **ELIOT**

Quentin looked at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “Do _you?”_ he asked, a bit teasing.

“Not usually, but…” Eliot smiled. “There’s something different about you.” He laughed, barely a huff. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Quentin shuffled closer. “I have a best friend,” he said, looking down at their feet. “Her name is Julia. She's a student here, too, but she's gifted, unlike me," he laughed sharply, "so she's been picked up for advanced classes, and... Anyway, she, uh - she wanted our friend James to be her soulmate so bad. She was, like, sure of it.”

Eliot hummed, leaning closer, pressing their shoulders together.

“But when she got her soul mark, spoiler: it wasn’t him.” Quentin looked up. “I didn’t get why she was so upset. We were all friends. We all loved each other. I didn’t think we needed more than that.”

Eliot nodded, pursing his lips. “I was always a very obviously queer little boy,” he tilted his head. “My mother knew from an early age. My father died not knowing the truth.” He shrugged. “In a way, I’m glad - I never had to deal with his anger and disappointment, but.”

Quentin reached out and touched his arm lightly.

He smiled tightly. “But because she knew, she had me hide my mark as soon as I got it.” He laughed sharply. “Probably knew there was some other poor queer kid out there with the same mark. I didn’t understand at the time, but I did once I was a little older.”

Quentin nodded slowly. “That should’ve been your choice, though, right?”

“I honestly don’t know, Quentin,” Eliot looked up. “And I don’t care, frankly.” He pushed off the wall, setting his jaw. “Soulmates, soul marks - it’s all bullshit if you ask me.”

Quentin smiled, just a hint. “Yeah? Well, I think we should go back to the party.” He shook his head. “I’m not letting Penny of all people ruin my first party at Brakebills.”

“Good idea,” Eliot replied, smirking.

> **QUENTIN**

Eliot was, in all ways, spectacular. Even when he was angry.

“That fucking - “

Quentin had been at Brakebills for about three months, and had slowly been learning more and more about the pair that ruled the school. Eliot, for one, was surprisingly good at hiding his temper.

Which meant he must’ve been really angry to be showing it off so openly.

“What’s wrong?” Quentin asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Eliot looked up. “Oh,” he sighed loudly. “It’s - it’s nothing, Quentin. Want a drink?” he asked as if he was going to wait for an answer. He turned and walked to the bar.

Quentin walked to the couch and sat down. “You’re angry,” he stated blankly.

“And?” Eliot turned and walked over with two drinks in his hands. He sat down with a huff. “It’s not like telling you will help.” He tilted his head in his direction, an almost playful sparkle in his eyes. “No offense.”

Quentin snatched one of the drinks. “Rude,” he muttered, taking a sip. “But hey, sometimes all you need is a good talk. Get it off your chest.”

Eliot made a face. “Disgusting.”

“Jesus Christ, El,” he laughed sharply. “Talking about your feelings won't kill you, I swear.”

Eliot sighed lightly and crossed his legs, staring down at his drink. “I haven’t exactly divulged this information yet,” he started after a moment. “But I have quite a few siblings.”

Quentin nodded, taking another slow sip.

“And my oldest sister is, well, she’s kind of a bitch,” he said dryly.

Quentin smiled around the rim of his cup. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, and Quentin knew him well enough to know he was suppressing a grin. “She thinks I’m going to Hell, because as far she knows, her dear younger brother still doesn’t have a mark.”

Quentin blinked. “Oh, but… you do.” It wasn’t really a question.

Eliot raised his glass with flair. “That I do. You’re an observant one, little Q.”

“God,” Quentin rolled his eyes fondly. “I hate that nickname, you - you big giant,” he blurted finally. He blushed faintly and looked away.

He could hear Eliot’s grin. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” he teased, poking Quentin’s leg, “because let me assure you most men _love_ the fact I’m a giant,” he poked his leg again, harder, “in _every_ possible way.”

Quentin swallowed thickly. “Please,” he said after a long moment.

Eliot pulled his hand away with a shrug. “If you want me to prove it, little Q, all you have to do is ask.”

“Uh.” Quentin licked his lips, suddenly so very dry. “I’m hungry,” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, nearly splashing his drink all over himself. “I’m - I’m gonna go - make food, yeah.”

Eliot watched him for a long, silent moment. Then with a heavy sigh, he stood up. "I don't trust you in my kitchen," he said blandly. "Come on. I'll cook."

Quentin laughed wholeheartedly. "Good call," he said, "I almost started a fire in Julia's apartment once." He grinned toothily. "We had to call the fire department and everything."

Eliot stared at him. "How have you survived this long without magic?"

"Uh," Quentin shrugged primly. "Pure luck?"

> **ELIOT**

"You remember what you said three months after we met?" Margo asked, standing over him with her arms folded over her chest.

Eliot blinked up at her, genuinely confused. "Uh. I showed you that STD prevention spell?"

She must not have been too angry despite her posture because she cracked a smile and rolled her eyes fondly. "No," she said, plopping in his lap. "Though, that was very helpful. Thank you." She kissed his cheek. "It had to do with our marks."

Eliot frowned, sighing. "What?"

"That soul marks are entirely full of shit," she said, patting his chest. "That we would ever need each other. Fuck relationships. Remember?"

Eliot nodded slowly. "I do," he said, shifting and wrapping his arms around her waist. "But why are you bringing it up so suddenly?"

"It's," she pursed her lips. "You don't actually think - " she shook her head. "Jesus, Eliot."

Eliot smirked. "You sound like Quentin," he said, squeezing her waist.

"I'm about to admit something _very_ embarrassing," she said, "but I love you, El, and the thought of, uh - losing you is hard for me." Eliot stared at her. "But I also want you to know that it's okay."

Eliot squinted. "What are you talking about?"

"Fuck soul marks," she said, head held high, "but if you find love without them, good. I want that for you." Margo smiled at him, oddly soft. "Go for it."

He leaned up and rubbed their noses together. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he repeated. "I mean, thank you for your very much needed permission," he said, teasingly, "but where is this coming from?"

Margo narrowed her eyes. "You're seriously not fucking with me right now?"

Eliot raised both eyebrows and shook his head firmly.

"I - " she put a hand over her mouth. "You're so fucking dumb, Eliot."

He huffed out a sudden, sharp laugh. "Wow. Thanks."

"No, no," Margo brushed a curl behind his ear. "Don't worry. You'll catch on eventually."

Eliot stared at her. "You're so confusing sometimes, you know that?"

"Confusing, but only with your best interests at heart," she mused, patting his chest again as she climbed off his lap.

"That's debatable," he said. "Remember last week when you let me drink so much I puked on the guy I was dancing with?"

Margo promptly turned away. "Nope, I have absolutely no memory of that."

Eliot just laughed, feeling fond and happy and content.

> **QUENTIN**

"So this is one of the infamous parties you've been telling me about," Julia sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. "Gotta say, Q, I'm not impressed."

She was teasing, of course - Quentin could tell by her grin. He grinned back, a bit shy.

"Anyway, where are the drinks?" she pushed off the couch and threw an arm around the other magician. "I'm thirsty as fuck."

Quentin side-eyed her. "I'm pretty sure if you're thirsty, you should be drinking wat - "

She pinched his side, and he yelped like a puppy. "Drinks," she repeated, eyes sparkling.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Quentin led her to the bar, which was being ran by Eliot, like always. "Hey," Quentin greeted, suddenly feeling shy for no reason. He knew Eliot - they were friends. 

Eliot looked up and smirked. "Hello," his eyes darted over to Julia, "and who is _this?_"

Julia smiled, polite as always. "Julia," she said. "And you're... Eliot, right?"

"You're not psychic, are you?" Eliot asked, narrowing his eyes.

She grinned. "Nope," she tugged Quentin closer, "just heard a lot about you from this guy."

"Jules," he hissed. "_Jesus_."

Eliot smirked. "Here, let me make you a drink," he said, already gathering the ingredients for his next concoction. "And do tell me why you haven't graced us with your presence sooner?"

Julia leaned against the stairs. "I was just so busy, with extra classes and - " she pursed her lips. "That totally makes me sound like a nerd, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Eliot answered, honest as ever. "But lucky for you, you're of the pretty variety."

Quentin rolled his eyes, feeling oddly left out of the conversation. He was usually okay with that. Actually, he preferred it usually but - "hey, once you're done with," he gestured vaguely at the bar, "do you want to dance?"

Eliot raised both eyebrows. "Are you asking me if I want to dance? With you?"

Quentin flushed. "I - I mean, with - " he sputtered lamely. "With Julia and me," he blurted finally, nudging her.

"Oh." Julia smiled sweetly. "That sounds fun."

Eliot glanced between them. "Yes," he replied after a few beats. "Just give me a second." He quickly finished Julia's drink and grabbed a student - _Todd_, Quentin remembered vaguely - to work the bar. "Come now," he grabbed one of Julia's hands and one of Quentin's, dragging them to the middle of the room. "Let me show you some _real_ magic."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: you can get your own personalized fic and support me by going to my Twitter and checking out my pinned Tweet.
> 
> Twitter.com/queermight

> **ELIOT**

Eliot was admittedly both surprised and relieved when Margo accepted Quentin into their little duo with ease, welcoming him with open, if not slightly suspicious arms and her usual quips.

"She makes fun of my hair at every turn," Quentin said, but he wasn't really complaining. He looked amused more than anything, the corner of lips turned up.

Eliot laughed lightly and patted his back. "That's a good thing," he assured him breezily. "What you _don't_ want is her ignoring you." 

Quentin peered at him, eyes sparkling. "Yeah?"

Before Eliot could answer, the door to the cottage swung open and Eliot watched as Quentin startled, suppressing a grin.

Margo walked in, brushing her out of her face. "Get ready, boys."

Eliot was just as confused as Quentin for once. They hadn't made any plans. He sat up straighter and raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

Margo stomped over and stopped in front of them, crossing her arms. "We are attending a party tonight. In Paris." She smiled deviously. "We're leaving in thirty minutes. Good luck."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked to the stairs, ascending them gracefully despite her insanely high heels. Quentin watched, almost impressed.

"Wait," he said suddenly. "_Paris?_"

Eliot smiled, hiding it behind his hand as he nodded shortly. "You do know where Paris is, correct? It's known for the - "

Quentin turned and glared at him. "Shut up," he said, not unkindly. "I mean, how do we get there?" He shivered almost violently. "I hate planes."

"Little Q," he patted his leg. "We're motherfucking _magicians_." He winked and leaned back. "We don't need planes."

Quentin stared at him. "Uh, okay." He licked his lips, squinting. "That's... ominous."

&

Quentin stared at the portal in Margo's closet. "Oh," he said lamely.

Margo giggled lightly and placed her hands on Quentin's back, pushing. "Go on," she said firmly. "Don't be a cock."

He glanced back at Margo over his shoulder and sighed loudly. "What the fuck does that mean?" he asked, groaning.

Eliot patted his arm, comfortingly. "It means don't be a pussy, but ever say those words and Margo will put a livable, but nasty curse on your..." he trailed off, eyes flickering to Quentin's crotch.

Quentin swallowed thickly. "Jesus Christ."

"Nope," Margo interrupted cheerily, "but I've been called similar." Without waiting for a reply, she pushed Quentin through the portal and laughed loudly.

Eliot bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a laugh of his own. "Please, be kind to the poor boy," he chided her, kissing her cheek softly.

"Oh, no," Margo replied, raising a finger in the air. "If he's going to be a part of this," she pointed between them, "he's learning early on how I function."

He grinned, eyes sparkling. "You really like him, don't you?"

Margo startled, peering up at Eliot. "Uh." She chewed on her bottom lip, almost smiling. "Yeah, something like that." Turning away, she adjusted her skirt. "I like him for _you_, at least," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Eliot asked, bemused.

Margo looked back over her shoulder, winking. "Nothing," she said quickly before jumping through the portal gracefully.

Eliot blinked once. Margo would always, in some ways, be a mystery.

> **QUENTIN**

The party was loud and crowded, and Quentin absolutely _hated_ it.

See, he could stand parties at the cottage because it was his home (days after he'd been classified as undetermined, he'd been relocated there from the dorms). He also knew quite a few of the residents. Margo and Eliot for starters, but there was a nice student named Josh, too, who he'd befriended after moving in.

This party was even bigger, even louder, and he didn't know a single person.

Margo had went off as soon as they walked through the door, joining a group of dancing men and women. Quentin hadn't been surprised; they were all just as beautiful as her. Beautiful people flocked together.

Margo and Eliot themselves were proof of that, really.

Eliot had stayed with him for a while, obviously trying to comfort him, which was appreciated and actually had made Quentin feel better.

Eventually a pretty man with dark skin and dark eyes had asked Eliot to dance, though, and Quentin couldn't be _that_ friend.

"Go," he said, whispering.

Eliot stared at him for a few beats. "You sure? I don't mind staying, Q." He smirked. "As shocking as this might be for you to hear, I actually _do_ enjoy your company."

Quentin rolled his eyes and smacked his chest. "Go," he repeated with a laugh.

"I'll come find you as soon as we're done..." his eyes flickered to the stranger and back again, "dancing."

Quentin squinted, and promptly ignored the weird feeling in his chest. Because of course Eliot would dance with other people, and of course he'd probably want to do other stuff with them, too. "Yeah, sure," he bit his lip, "just _dancing_."

Eliot shrugged and walked off with a little wave of his fingers.

He stood in the middle of the crowded room and sighed, looking around for anything to do. He found himself at the bar within seconds.

"Hey," an unknown voice whispered in his ear.

Quentin startled and quickly turned, spilling a few splashes of his drink on his shirt.

Great.

He couldn't dwell on that too long, though, because the person standing in front of him was fucking gorgeous.

Light hair, bright green eyes, tan skin. The guy was a walking, talking wet dream.

Quentin smiled nervously. "Uh, hi?" he squeaked, glancing back over his shoulder. Nope, the guy was definitely talking to him. For some unknown reason.

"Are you by yourself?" the guy asked.

Quentin peeked up at the stranger's face. He was grinning. Like he was excited to be talking to Quentin of all people. Even in his stupid baggy sweater Margo had rolled her eyes at. He licked his lips and nodded jerkily.

"Want to dance?" he asked. "The name's Jon, by the way."

"Okay," he whispered eventually, placing his cup on the bar.

Jon winked and grabbed Quentin's hand, pulling him to the middle of the room.

He stared at their intertwined hands. Jon's fingers were long and slender. He promptly ignored the fact they reminded him of Eliot's hands, just darker.

Quentin quickly looked away and caught sight of Margo, who was dancing wildly between two beautiful women. He smiled, relaxing. This was the point, right? To have fun, be wild, do things you normally wouldn't do.

Looking away, he smiled at Jon.

> **ELIOT**

"Have you seen Q?"

Margo didn't even look in his direction, just continued dancing with her two partners for the night. "Nope," she said quickly. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes fondly. "You know how he is, Bambi," he said, glancing around in search of a familiar mop of brown hair. "Poor thing is probably overwhelmed. I just want to check on him."

Margo barked out a laugh and lunged forward, pressing up against one of the girls. "Oh my God," she yelled over the music, "you're both so clueless."

"Wh - " Eliot furrowed his brows. "What?"

Margo reached out with a hand, waving wildly. "Go, find your little prince on your own." She grinned at the girl in front of her. "I'm busy."

"You are so drunk," he shot back with a laugh.

Shaking his head, he turned away and started toward the bar. He grabbed a drink and took a few large gulps before sighing.

Eventually, he caught of Quentin's floppy brown hair. Beaming, he tossed his empty cup in the trash. "Q!" he exclaimed, pushing a few people out of the way.

He stopped in his tracks when he realized Quentin was, surprisingly, not alone. A man stood in front of him, a hand casually resting on Quentin's waist. Eliot blinked, genuinely surprised.

"Oh," Quentin said, glancing at the other magician. He smiled sheepishly. "Hey."

Eliot blinked again. "Hi," he greeted before his eyes flickered to the stranger. "And who is this?"

Quentin licked his lips, pulling away. "This is, uh, Jon."

"Right." Eliot smiled politely. "The pleasure is all mine," he said breezily, barely even glancing in Jon's direction. "Q," he continued quickly. "Do you want to step out - get some fresh air?"

Quentin glanced between them. "Um."

Jon tilted his head, waiting patiently. Eliot decided he hated him already.

"Maybe later," he said finally.

Eliot was surprised. Again. "Okay," he said without missing a beat. "Have fun, you lovebirds," he said, smiling brightly.

Quentin gasped, blushing. "El," he whined as Jon laughed loudly.

He waved his fingers before turning away and walking to the door. Apparently, _he_ was the one who needed air.

&

Eliot leaned against the side of the building, digging a cigarette out of his pocket. He sighed lightly and stared up at the darkening sky. The stars glittered brightly.

"Fuck," he breathed, taking another long drag off his cigarette.

The door opened, and not even a second after, "El, what are you doing out there?"

He barely moved his head in Margo's direction, smiling ruefully around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "What do you think?" He reached up and removed the stick, holding it between two of his fingers. "Getting some beautiful, fresh air."

"Please," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Get back in there."

Eliot looked away. "I'm good."

Margo stepped closer and snatched the cigarette out of his hand, nearly burning herself.

Eliot straightened up. "Jesus Christ, Margo, why would you - "

"No," she raised a finger in the air. "_I'm_ the one asking the questions, starting with: why are you moping?"

Eliot glared at her. "I do not mope," he muttered quietly.

"Really?" Margo raised an eyebrow. "Then, what are you doing out there all by yourself?"

He sniffed loudly. "I told you." He gestured lamely. "Fresh air and all that."

Rolling her eyes, Margo crushed the cigarette in her hand and swiftly stuffed it in the pocket of Eliot's (favorite) vest. Pulling back, she crossed her arms.

"Really, Bambi?" he blanched.

She shrugged primly. "Spill."

"I told you, it's nothing." Margo wasn't impressed, of course. "Fine, shit." He took a short, sharp breath. "I was just surprised that Quentin found someone to dance with. Like I said, no big deal."

Margo narrowed her eyes. "Surprised?" she asked slowly. "_Just_ surprised?"

He stared at her. "Yes, surprised," he confirmed, frowning. "Why?"

Humming, she circled around and put her hands against his back. "I'm not letting this ruin your night." She pushed, surprisingly strong despite her small stature. "Come on."

Eliot rolled his eyes, mostly fond.

> **QUENTIN**

Quentin did not often sleep with strangers. He wasn’t against it, per se, but he knew who he was as a person. He got attached easily, so it just wasn’t a good idea for him. But… with enough liquor in his system, apparently his brain stopped working.

He ended up going back to Jon’s apartment and spending the night.

Two things happened upon waking up.

One) he felt like absolute shit. His mouth was painfully dry and his head ached from a nasty hangover.

Two) Jon sat at the end of the bed, weirdly stiff and staring at nothing.

"Uh." Quentin sat up slowly, wetting his lips. "Everything okay?"

Jon sighed lightly and looked back over his shoulder. Mutely, he pointed at Quentin's thigh.

"Oh," Quentin said, softer.

Jon stood up and briskly walked around the room, gathering Quentin's things. "You should go," he said, tossing them in his lap.

"I don't - uh." He laughed sheepishly. "I don't get it."

He did, of course, but did Jon _actually_ expect to find his soulmate at a random party?

"Just go," he repeated, a bit harsher.

Quentin frowned and nodded. Standing up, he tugged his clothes on and started for the door. Jon didn't even try to stop him. "You know what," he said once he was at the door. "_Fuck_ you."

Jon just shrugged, like he truly did not give a shit.

&

Quentin wasn't upset because he had some kind of magical night with Jon or anything. He was perfectly fine never seeing the guy again. Sure, he was beautiful but a lot of beautiful people existed - here, in New York, at Brakebills.

He was _angry_.

Because who the fuck did that?

Walking down the stairs, he startled when he saw Margo and Eliot both waiting for him.

"How the fuck did you find me?" he asked before he could help himself.

Margo grinned like a shark and patted his shoulder. "Did you really think we wouldn't put a tracking spell on you? During your first time in Paris? _Please_."

He couldn't even be angry at that, because he was honestly happy to see familiar faces. He sighed heavily. "Jon is a dick," he said simply.

"I could've told you that," Eliot muttered quietly.

Margo smacked his arm. "Oh, I know, sweetie," she assured Quentin, wrapping an arm around him. "Come, Paris is too much for you. Home awaits."

He laughed softly. He loved Margo, even with all her weird quirks.

> **ELIOT**

"Here," he said later that night, pushing a steaming blue drink in Quentin's face. "It should help with any unwanted... _emotions_," he said with a shiver.

Quentin grinned and took the offered drink, rolling his eyes fondly. "I'm fine, El. I told you, I didn't have feelings for the guy." He took a sip of the steaming concoction and shuddered. Strong stuff. "I'd just met him."

"Oh." Eliot shrugged primly. "Well, the drink is still good."

Quentin laughed airily and moved over on the couch. Eliot took the silent invitation and sat down. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.

"So, you don't want to, like, talk about it, right?" Eliot asked, clearing his throat.

Quentin glanced at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You don't want to talk about it," he corrected knowingly. "Besides, it's not worth talking about."

"Okay." Eliot stared at Quentin. "Okay, no," he continued after a few beats. "You can talk to me. Come on, what did he do that had you so bitchy?"

"I - " Quentin gasped. "I was not _bitchy_."

Eliot nudged him softly. "So what happened? Did he piss in your Cheerios?"

"Jesus," Quentin looked away and took another long sip. "He just. He was one of those people, I don't know. He had no problem sleeping with me drunk but in the morning he saw my mark and decided I was nothing to him because I wasn't the one," he said through a sharp laugh.

Eliot blinked. "Oh."

"I'm just - I'm tired of people being like that," Quentin continued with a frustrated huff.

Eliot wrapped an arm around his shoulders, light and comforting. Quentin sighed and leaned into it. "I know, little Q," he muttered, "but there's no changing them. The only thing you _can_ do is surround yourself with the right people - people who understand."

Quentin peered up at his face. "Like you and Margo," he said simply.

He grinned, squeezing his shoulder. "Yes," he said with a laugh, "like me and Margo."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: go to my Twitter and check out my pinned Tweet. Thank you!
> 
> twitter.com/queermight

> **QUENTIN**

Quentin startled when the door slammed open with a resounding bang and Margo strolled in like she owned the place, like she _wasn’t_ entering Quentin’s room.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Hello, Margo,” he greeted, closing his book. “May I suggest knocking next time?”

Margo hummed lightly, tilting her head back and forth like she was thinking. “You can,” she decided eventually, grinning devilishly, “but I won’t listen, so really, you should think of yourself and save your breath.”

Quentin rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Oh, right,” she clapped her hands together. “I need your help.”

Margo never needed help. Quentin sat up a little straighter. “Is everything okay?” he asked, genuinely worried.

She smiled, a bit soft, and waved him off.

“I’m okay,” she said, walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed gingerly. “But you see, next Friday is a national holiday and I need help decorating.” She shrugged, “among other stuff.”

Quentin blinked. Once.

It most definitely wasn’t a normal holiday, but maybe magicians had their own special holidays or something. “Okay?” he agreed tentatively.

Margo laughed loudly, unabashed like always, and patted his leg. “I’m kidding, Q,” she said, eyes sparkling.

“Oh,” he said, flushing with embarrassment. “Uh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “So what do you need?”

Margo patted his leg again, a bit harder. “It’s Eliot’s birthday.”

“Oh,” he breathed.

Eliot had definitely never mentioned that. Which was weird, right?

He frowned, crinkling his nose.

“Don’t look like a kicked puppy,” she said, sincerely. “El is… weird about his birthday.” Margo flipped some hair off her shoulders, “which is exactly why we need to throw the best party ever and change his mind.”

Quentin narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure he’ll appreciate us meddling like that, Margo.”

She rolled her eyes and jumped up, adjusting her skirt. “Please, the boy loves a little meddling.” Looking back over her shoulder, she winked. “So help me.”

It wasn’t really a question.

Quentin ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly. He didn’t really see the harm. It was just a party, right? And Eliot undeniably loved parties, more than anything.

Except maybe alcohol.

“We’ll need a lot of liquor,” he said.

Margo laughed wholeheartedly and patted his head, almost motherly. “Now we’re talking,” she said with a grin. “We’ll discuss this more later, okay?”

Lifting a hand, she pressed a finger against her lips. “Keep this a secret, obviously.”

Quentin gulped. Oh, he was bad at keeping secrets. Probably should’ve mentioned that earlier, but also Margo should’ve known that by now.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded curtly. “Sure.”

&

The next few days were quiet. Margo didn’t say anything about the party and honestly Quentin didn’t push. He still wasn’t sure a party, of the birthday variety, at least, was a good idea.

But of course Tuesday morning Margo stomped into his room. Without knocking, again. Quentin groaned and pulled a pillow over his face.

“Do the wards even do anything?” he grumbled.

Margo hummed and walked over, her heels clicking on the floor. “They do,” she answered brightly. “I’m just too talented, sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry at all, and Quentin knew it.

He also kind of respected it.

Sighing loudly, he pulled the pillow off his face and stared up at her. “What?”

“Party,” she said, like that explained everything. When he didn’t reply, she rolled her eyes. “Decorations? Presents?”

Quentin blinked. “Wait, we’re getting him presents?” he asked, sitting up.

Margo turned and walked to his closet, sorting through his stuff quickly. Quentin watched for a moment, speechless, before -

“Hey!”

Margo turned back and tossed a pair of jeans and a shirt on the bed. “There, you have five minutes.” She gave a little wave and walked to the door. “Hurry.”

> **ELIOT**

“Hey,” Eliot said as soon as he saw Quentin walking down the stairs, still groggy.

Quentin blinked at him. “It’s like seven in the morning,” he said. “That means it’s way too early to be talking.”

Eliot chuckled lightly and stood up from the couch, walking to the small bar that was always present in the cottage, party or not. “Here, let me make you something.”

Quentin squinted and plopped on the couch. “Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

“Better,” he assured him breezily, working his magic, both literally and figuratively.

After a couple minutes, he walked over with a steaming pink drink and shoved it in Quentin’s face. “Drink.” Quentin opened his mouth, but he quickly continued, “and ask questions later.”

Quentin sighed in defeat, because much like Margo, Eliot was not worth arguing with. He always won.

Taking the drink, he sniffed it suspiciously (because as much as he loved Eliot as a friend, he wasn’t stupid) and finally took a sip.

The stuff was almost painfully sweet and he made a face. “Jesus Christ.”

Eliot patted his shoulder as he sat down beside him. “Keep at it,” he said, eyes sparkling.

“I - ” Quentin sighed again, louder, and quickly downed the rest of it. Finished, he slammed the cup down on the table and - “wait,” he breathed, his mind suddenly clear. “What just happened?”

He felt like he’d gotten a proper eight hours of sleep, not a flimsy two hours of tossing and turning.

It was magic. Literally.

Eliot nudged him. “Good stuff, right?”

“But disgustingly sweet.”

Eliot shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.” Quentin shrugged back - couldn’t rightfully argue with that. “So,” he continued easily, tilting his head. “Have you been… _avoiding_ me, little Q?”

Quentin quickly turned, staring at him with wide eyes. “Uh.” He smiled sheepishly. “No?”

“Why was that phrased as a question?” he asked, amused if anything.

“I’ve just - I’ve been spending a lot of time with Margo!” he blurted, truthfully.

Eliot blinked. “Oh,” he replied quietly. “You have? I just, Margo hasn’t mentioned anything of the sort.” He smiled, a bit sharp. “What have you two been doing?”

Quentin was so not a good liar. He gulped. Thankfully, Margo came sweeping down the stairs just in time, smiling widely.

“My two favorite boys,” she cooed, playfully.

Quentin rolled his eyes fondly. “Hi, Margo.”

She grinned and walked over, pushing them apart and plopping down on the couch between them. Turning her head, she kissed Eliot on the lips softly, which was normal. Expected. Eliot smiled lightly against her lips before she pulled away.

Turning the other way, she planted a quick kiss on Quentin's lips.

Which was... _not_ so normal. Eliot watched as she faced him again and smiled brightly.

"Have I missed something?" he asked, a bit joking.

Margo raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?

Eliot's eyes flickered between the pair. "Nothing," he said eventually.

"Right, well," Margo jumped back to her feet. "I actually came down here for a reason." She grabbed Quentin's hand and yanked him off the couch. He stumbled clumsily. "I need Quentin."

Eliot stared up at her. "For what?"

"Nothing important," she quipped, already turning away. "See you later, El."

Eliot watched, confused and just a little hurt, as Margo dragged Quentin up the stairs.

> **QUENTIN**

Finally, it was morning of Eliot's party. Margo had made a proper, detailed list of their plans for the day. Quentin had rolled his eyes fondly. Margo could be surprisingly nerdy in her own ways.

Stalking down the stairs, he glanced around - Margo and Eliot were both nowhere to be seen. He knew Margo had plans to get her hair done ("for Eliot," she had said, "he deserves the best.") but he was surprised that Eliot wasn't downstairs yet. He was an early riser for some incomprehensible reason.

But that worked in his favor, really, because he had plans of his own.

Tying his hair back, he walked to the kitchen and started making breakfast. He knew he wasn't a very good cook, but he had picked up some pointers from Eliot and he was weirdly excited to show them off.

He was just finishing up when Eliot entered the kitchen with a loud yawn. Then, "what the fuck?"

Quentin grinned, a bit sweaty. "Tada," he said, gesturing at the feast of breakfast food littering the kitchen table. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, biscuits - he'd went all out, because it was the least he could do.

"I - " Eliot squinted, pulling out a chair. "I thought you said you couldn't cook."

Quentin shrugged and joined him, but only after grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and two cups. "I honestly couldn't," he said, truthfully. "But I've been getting better recently, probably from watching you."

Eliot raised both eyebrows. "You've been watching me?" he asked, a bit teasing.

"I..." Quentin cleared his throat as he poured them both orange juice. "You're a great cook," he said eventually. Eliot was _many_ things.

Eliot watched him for a minute longer before finally looking away. "What's the special occasion?"

"Oh." Quentin bit his bottom lip, feeling warm. "Um, it's - Happy Birthday?" he finished lamely.

Eliot looked up sharply. "Jesus," he said, huffing out a laugh. "Margo told you?" Thankfully, he didn't look angry as much as vaguely annoyed. Quentin smiled sheepishly and nodded. "You didn't have to do all this, Q."

"I know," he replied quickly, "but I wanted to."

Eliot stared at him.

"Really," he added.

Eliot chuckled lightly and looked down. "If she's told you, she surely has something in the works." It wasn't a question.

Quentin smiled again, even more sheepish.

Shaking his head, Eliot picked up his fork and took a bite of eggs. Quentin beamed when he looked up and grinned, eyes sparkling. "At least I'm getting a good breakfast out of the deal," he said. "You should cook more often, Coldwater."

He promptly ignored the way his cheeks warmed at the compliment. He smiled lightly and tilted his head. "And step on your toes? No way."

Eliot grinned wider and pointed his fork at him. "Good answer."

> **ELIOT**

The party was amazing and extravagant. The decorations were elegant, and the cake had been excellent. Eliot expected no less from Margo, of course, and he told her just that as the party was finally winding down. "You did a great job, as always," he said, "but you could've told me, you know."

"Ugh," Margo rolled her eyes. "Please, and hear you complain?" She planted her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "You're annoyingly good at complaining."

Eliot smirked, nudging her lightly. "Be nice," he said, eyes sparkling, "this is my party."

"That you wouldn't have even had without me, your very best friend," Margo purred, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning up. She kissed his cheek. "You're welcome, by the way."

Eliot pressed a hand to the small of her back. "Did you hear? Q made me breakfast."

Margo leaned down, her heels clicking on the floor. "He did what?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "We so did not discuss that."

"Don't be mad," he laughed quietly. "It was nice."

She tilted her head curiously. "Really?" she asked. "Like nice or nice nice?"

Eliot blinked down at her. He had no idea what she was talking about, which was becoming more and more common nowadays. Before he could answer, Quentin appeared, stumbling drunkenly.

Margo took a few steps back. "I am so not babysitting tonight," she said. "Have fun, boys." She looked up at Eliot and winked. "Come by my room later for your present," she said before walking off.

"Have much alcohol have you had?" Eliot asked, staring down at Quentin.

He giggled loudly, tilting his head back and forth like he was thinking. "I don't know," he answered eventually. "A lot?"

"Obviously," Eliot replied, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on, you need water."

He led him out of the living room and into the small kitchen. Eliot raised an eyebrow silently at the few stragglers littering the kitchen and they rushed out, laughing and cursing. Eliot suppressed a grin.

"Here," he said, pulling out a chair.

Quentin blinked slowly at him. "Thank you, Eliot," he said, so sincere. He sat down and smacked his lips a few times. "God, my mouth tastes like _death_."

Eliot patted his head. "I didn't know you were such a lightweight," he said, not unkindly.

"I'm not!" he argued, waving his hand in the air. "I'm - I'm a hardweight."

Eliot stifled a laugh. Jesus Christ, he was so dumb and _cute_. He blinked. Wait, what?

"Waterrrrr," Quentin slurred impatiently.

He peered down at the other magician. "Right." He smiled lightly and turned away, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. "Here," he said, turning back.

Quentin grabbed the cup and nearly spilled it, chugging a few gulps. Eliot watched, leaning against the counter.

"You good?" he asked after a moment.

Quentin hummed and leaned forward, pressing his face against the table. "Nnngh," he grumbled. "I wanna sleep."

"Okay," Eliot said softly, pushing off from the counter. "Come on."

Quentin whined loudly. "I have to move?" he asked, like the mere thought was incomprehensible. Like his room wasn't upstairs. "Noooo, I'll sleep... here," he finished quietly, yawning.

Eliot crossed his arms. "At the table?"

"Mhmmm," he replied, barely above a whisper.

Reaching out, Eliot ruffled Quentin's hair. "Okay," he said, softly. "I'll be right back."

Leaving the room, he walked to the stairs and stepped up onto the first step. He clapped his hands together, sparks of magic dancing around his fingertips. "Okay, I'm never one to end a party early," he said, loud and clear, "but sadly there's a first for everything."

There were a lot of disappointed groans and a few people yelled he was a party pooper. They were most likely drunk off of their ass. Eliot just rolled his eyes and opened the front door of the cottage with magic, as easy as moving his own hands.

"El," Margo said, walking over, hands on her hips. "Since when do you end parties early?"

Eliot reached out and brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "Like I said, Bambi," he started, tilting his head, "there's a first for everything."

"I would _so_ normally be against this," she replied, the corner of her lips quirking up, "but because it's your birthday..." Turning, she pointed at the door and took a deep breath. "Everyone, out! Quickly," she added after a few beats.

Not even five minutes later, the cottage is empty.

Eliot's eyes sparkled, equal parts frightened and impressed. Like with most things involving Margo. "How do you do that?"

"Magic," she replied with a grin. "Now, seriously, what's up?"

Eliot blinked. "Oh, just." He smiled sheepishly. "I was getting tired."

"You? Tired?" Margo gasped dramatically. "The world might really be ending."

Eliot laughed lightly and cupped her face. "I'll clean things up, okay?" He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you," he continued, softer, "for everything."

Margo was not very good at expressing her emotions and this was no exception. She showed her love through jokes and jabs. But her smile, soft and sincere, couldn't have been more real. "Don't be so sappy," she quipped, batting at his arm. "Remember: come by later for your present."

"Of course," he agreed, and watched as she ascended the stairs.

Sighing, he turned and walked into the kitchen. Quentin was asleep at the table, snoring loudly. He bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a grin, and gently jostled his shoulder. "Hey, Q," he whispered.

"Noooo," Quentin grumbled sleepily. "I don't wanna."

Eliot grinned, unable to hold it any longer. "You don't even know what I want."

"I don't cccare," he slurred. "Sleep."

Eliot rolled his eyes fondly. "Just stand up, okay?"

Quentin sighed loudly and stood up on wobbly legs. Eliot quickly wrapped an arm around his waist. "There you go," he muttered quietly, helping him through the door. Quentin leaned his head on Eliot's shoulder.

He helped him to the couch and let him drop. Quentin sighed happily and curled up.

"Want a pillow?" he asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Quentin lifted his hand and waved him off. "_Sleep_," he repeated, firmer.

Eliot laughed softly and ruffled his hair, which just earned him a very unhappy groan.

&

Climbing the stairs, his first stop was the bathroom; he took off his eyeliner and mascara. After, he changed into more comfortable clothes. Satisfied, he walked to Margo's room and knocked. Not even five seconds later, she called out, "come in!"

Opening the door, he entered Margo's room. "Hey," he says, tired and soft.

She smiled brightly. "Close the door," she instructed, quickly shuffling to the edge of the bed and waving him forward.

Eliot raised both eyebrows and closed the door - with magic, of course. He couldn't help being a show off, even around Margo. She rolled her eyes fondly as he walked over to stand in front of her.

"Want your present?"

Eliot smirked. "I don't know," he replied. "Do I?"

Margo nodded quickly. "You do," she confirmed breezily. "Ready?"

"Okay," he replied.

Grinning cheekily, she pulled a piece of paper out from behind her back and shoved it in his face. Eliot blinked a few times, focusing on the words. Oh. _Oh_. He took the paper in shaky hands and stared. It was a spell to permanently remove your soul mark. Both from yourself _and_ your soulmate, even without their permission or consent. "This is..."

Forbidden magic.

"Very illegal," she finished knowingly, looking a bit sheepish. "But - "

Eliot looked up sharply. "Margo, this is _dangerous_. You could get in real trouble for this kind of stuff."

"But you hate soulmates and stuff, right?" she shot back. "Well, so do I." Lifting her head high, she stared at him. "If we do this, we're free."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's not fair," he said, surprised by his own words. "Our soulmates - "

Margo stood up suddenly, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Who cares what _they_ think?"

"I don't," he replied quickly, "but I'm not partaking in something that could get us both expelled," he frowned, "if not worse."

Margo folded her arms over her chest. "I thought you'd be at least thankful," she said harshly.

"I - " Eliot looked up and sighed heavily, tossing the paper on the bed. "I do appreciate the thought, Bambi, and the effort." Reaching out, he grasped her shoulders. "But this is dangerous and I don't want you getting involved in fucking forbidden magic for me. Or anyone. How - how did you even find this?"

Margo tilted her head back and forth, pursing her lips. "There's this girl. Kady something. If you pay her a lot, she'll find you illegal stuff like this."

"Okay," Eliot nodded, kissing her forehead. "Stay away from her, okay?"

Margo rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me what to do," she said, mostly joking.

"Thank you," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Get some sleep, okay?"

Margo leaned up and softly pecked him on the lips. "Night, El," she whispered. "I'm, uh." She cleared her throat, eyes darting around like she was searching for something. Or, more accurately, skillfully avoiding eye contact. "Sorry for - "

"No," Eliot put a hand in the air as he stepped back. "No apologies, darling. I know how much you despise them. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Margo nodded, looking properly sheepish. "Okay," she confirmed.


End file.
